


we can't let this take us

by gundampilot



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (In the only ways they know how to comfort I guess.), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dialogue Heavy, Hurt/Comfort, I really don't know how to tag this god., Late Night Conversations, M/M, Undefinable Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7020703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gundampilot/pseuds/gundampilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The lake is so dark. Like a giant void. A black hole.” Jeonghan wants to walk into it. To see if it’ll disrupt any balance in reality. To see if it’ll swallow him and Wonwoo up. Look into its surface and see if it’ll show him something other than his reflection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we can't let this take us

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings** : brief referenced/implied drug use/addiction to prescription medication, brief mention of body image. neither of these things are a main focus or expound on at all, but i absolutely do not want to trigger anyone.
> 
> this drabble is more conversation than anything else

**12:00 AM**  
**TO:** Jeonghan  
**FROM:** Wonwoo  
come to the spot

 **12:00 AM **  
**TO:** Wonwoo  
**FROM:** Jeonghan  
It’s 12 am. No. Go home.

 **12:01 AM **  
**TO:** Jeonghan  
**FROM:** Wonwoo  
i have booze

 **12:01 AM **  
**TO:** Wonwoo  
**FROM:** Jeonghan  
Fine.

Jeonghan throws his legs over the side of the bed, pads of his feets hitting the coarse carpet. Tripping over his still-unpacked backpack on the way to his bedroom door, Jeonghan starts questioning if he should meet up with Wonwoo at The Spot this late at night. It’s dark, and this town isn’t exactly the most populated place within the next hundred miles. The dirt roads, woods, and sparse “neighborhoods” aren’t exactly fodder for happy stories. Jeonghan has seen enough scary movies and poorly written crime television shows to talk himself into knowing he isn’t safe.

 

And Bigfoot. (“Bigfoot isn’t fucking real. And if he was, he wouldn’t live in this shitty ass town, Jeonghan.” But what the fuck does Wonwoo know.)

 

Jeonghan’s mom is still awake, the television blaring the Travel Channel loudly in their small living room. She’s standing at the backdoor in the kitchen with a Marlboro Light 100 between her aging fingers. The screen door was busted through when he was in high school, so all she does is is lean against the frame of the closed door and lets the smoke filter out through the mangled mesh. Everything in the kitchen looks orange because of the ceiling light, and the plant hanging in the window above the sink seems to have died while Jeonghan was away for the semester.

 

“I’ll be back later,” he calls to her from hallway (if he could even call it a hallway) where old carpet meets scratched hardwood. Jeonghan forces his feet into his sister’s old, worn pair of Toms laying underneath the small table by the front door.

 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she replies, voice coming out staticy from the cigarette smoke in her lungs. She flicks the cigarette onto the back porch, the damp cement putting it out with a soft sizzle.

 

Jeonghan grabs the flashlight from the tabletop and exits the front door.

  
  
  
  


The Spot wasn’t actually anything special or unique. It wasn’t even _theirs_. It was an open air, public wooden pavilion situated by the banks of the largest lake in town. None of them know how it managed to be called The Spot, but that’s what their friend group has called it for the last seven years.

 

It’s not a quick walk to The Spot seeing as how the lake is one mile from Jeonghan’s little wooden house. His hand is beginning to hurt and sweat from holding the bulky flashlight for too long, and he almost wants to abandon it in the grass; but the fear of serial killers and Bigfoot is too much for him to do it. Jeonghan laughs at himself.

 

After navigating through the short trails to the front of the lake, Jeonghan can see a dark figure in the pavilion sitting on top of one of the picnic tables. The gravel under is hard under the thin soles of his shoes while he makes a straight shot for steps, and he curses the town for adding it in the first place. It must be recent since it wasn’t here when he came home during winter break.

 

“Hey,” a deep voice finds him in the darkness.

 

“Hey.” Jeonghan shines his flashlight into Wonwoo’s face.

 

“What, no pot?” Wonwoo inquires at Jeonghan’s empty hand.

 

“My sister stole it.” He switches the flashlight off and lets his eyes adjust to the night. The biggest house at the right of the lake from where they are is lit in a golden glory, and they can hear a faraway chatter of people and music.

 

“We’ve been back from our shitty university two weeks, and we already have shit like this happening to us.”

 

“Stop saying ‘we’ like everything that happens in my life affects you too,” Jeonghan says as he crawls onto the picnic table to sit next to Wonwoo.

 

“Well doesn’t it?”

 

Jeonghan ignores the question. “Where’s the alcohol?”

 

“I drank it all.”

 

“No you didn’t.” There are no empty bottles, and Wonwoo doesn't smell or look drunk.

 

“I didn’t bring it.”

 

“So you lied.” Jeonghan leans back and presses his palms into the wood.

 

“Nothing gets passed you,” Wonwoo comments dryly. Jeonghan’s eyes have adjusted to the dark with the help of the lit house, and he sees Wonwoo is looking out onto the lake. The silence is pounding in his ears; it's unbearable. 

 

“The lake is so dark. Like a giant void. A black hole.” Jeonghan wants to walk into it. To see if it’ll disrupt any balance in reality. To see if it’ll swallow him and Wonwoo up. Look into its surface and see if it’ll show him something other than his reflection. Jeonghan thinks if he were to kill himself, it’d be in that godforsaken lake.

 

“It’s hypnotizing sometimes.” Wonwoo reaches around Jeonghan to steal his flashlight and shines it into Jeonghan’s face. “You look thin,” he comments.

 

“Yeah.” Jeonghan takes the flashlight from his grasp and turns it on to Wonwoo. The circles under Wonwoo’s eyes are dark and deep, and his cheekbones are sharper. Jeonghan shuts off the flashlight; he doesn’t want to look any longer. “You look addicted to oxy.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why did you make me come out here if you don’t have booze, and I don’t have weed?” Jeonghan is trying to pretend like things aren’t bad, but pretending doesn’t mean not realizing.

 

“Needed you, I guess.” Wonwoo’s voice sounds too close and too far away at the same time. Jeonghan wants to ask why he didn’t just say that in the first place, but he decides not to.

 

Jeonghan knows why they’re here. Jeonghan needed him, too, probably. He won't admit it. He decides to bring it up if Wonwoo won’t.

 

“How’s it going with Soonyoung?” Jeonghan asks quietly, eyes out of focus from staring at the lake too long. It feels surreal.

 

“He doesn’t know I exist,” is all Wonwoo can say.

 

“What about Junhui?” Wonwoo’s hands move to his lap at that question.

 

“I don’t want to talk about that one.” Wonwoo cards both hands through his hair. “How’s it going with What’s-His-Face?” Jeonghan swallows and looks into his lap, but he can’t see anything anyway. He’s thankful Wonwoo knows better than use names.

 

“He said I’m too much for him.” His chest feels like it’s contracting and his lungs are shrinking.

 

“What a fucking douche.” Wonwoo’s voice is louder this time, and Jeonghan almost smiles.

 

“He’s probably right.” Who wants to date a person who blacks out almost every two days from alcohol and is falling apart at the seams. Jeonghan sucks air into his mouth before he continues. “And you know what’s fucked up?” His voice is shaking, and he can feel the stinging in his eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Everyday. Every goddamn day. Every second. I’m obsessing over it.” Jeonghan digs his palms into his eyes, and his eyelashes are rough against the heels of them. “Because I have nothing else to do with my life but never internally shut up about all the relationships I’ve screwed up in my life.” Jeonghan can’t stop spilling his guts, and he wants to vomit.

 

“You still have me.” Wonwoo presses an oddly warm hand into Jeonghan’s shoulder, and Jeonghan smiles through the prickling tears at the back of his eyes, face still buried in his hands. His cheeks burn against his palms.

 

“Yeah.” It comes out muffled and unattractive, but Jeonghan doesn’t care. He sits up and wipes his palms on his thighs, and then his eyes on the sleeve of his sweater in an attempt to collect himself. “Sorry.”

 

“About what?” Wonwoo’s voice has become a whisper, and it freaks Jeonghan out.

 

“About our shitty situations.” About himself. About everything.

 

“It’s not the end of the world,” Wonwoo assures him.

 

“Shut up, Wonwoo.”

 

“I mean, I haven’t killed myself yet.”

 

“I’m surprised.” Jeonghan tries to say it jokingly, but it just doesn’t come out that way. Wonwoo doesn’t seem to care.

 

“I guess because I’m kinda in love with you.” Wonwoo pauses, but not for Jeonghan’s response. “But in a weird, fucked up way. In a shitty, undefinable way.”

 

“You’re being very honest tonight.” Jeonghan rests his cheek on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah.” Wonwoo takes Jeonghan’s hand and fits it to his before lacing their fingers together. It’s not romantic. Jeonghan isn’t sure what it means. Doesn’t care what it means.

  
“Me too.” Jeonghan doesn’t elaborate, and Wonwoo doesn’t ask what he means by it.


End file.
